


Observations of the Palace (and particularly King George)

by fire_sprite



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Geollie, M/M, MORE ON THAT IN THE DESCRIPTION, No Smut, THIS FANWORK WAS INSPIRED BY CAPTAIN SEALANT ON YOUTUBE, i love fluff with all of my heart and soul, some of the characters are mine, some of the characters are theirs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_sprite/pseuds/fire_sprite
Summary: Oliver Aedeline is perfectly happy with his job as a palace page boy. One day, he gets a request from the king himself to report to his chambers... and it gets a little more musical than he bargained for.After that, he becomes closer with George, and he thinks that the fairytale stories of true love might be a little more grounded in reality than he'd thought.Or, a series of one-shots for Geollie. :)DISCLAIMER: this was heavily inspired by Captain Sealant's videos "You'll Be Back [Hamilton ANIMATIC]" and "Posin' Animation Meme [THANK YOU FOR 10K+ SUBS!!]" on Youtube (links below) and fanfiction "His Majesty's Royal Servant" (link in the latter video). Captain Sealant, NOT ME, owns the characters Oliver Dabney Aedeline, Quentin, and Oliver's father.I own Oliver's mother and sister (Charity), although they are only mentioned.Lin Manuel-Miranda and the rest of history owns everything else.You'll Be Back: https://youtu.be/tf1-PsDCPbkPosin': https://youtu.be/-ZfDQpcCtCQ





	1. Meeting the King

_Your family is counting on you,_ I reminded myself. Father was off serving in the American colonies, and Mother and Charity could only make so much in the spinning industry.

Unfortunately, my heart was still pounding anxiously. Without warning, His Majesty had sent for me to arrive at his chambers. Even Quincy, my best friend in the palace, had no idea what would call for a sudden request like this.

_Please, Lord, let me keep this job…_

As I neared the king’s quarters, I swallowed hard.

_I need this job…_

I knocked and almost immediately the door was flung open by none other than the king himself. I was surprised to see he was so young--my age.

_Can you imagine being king?_

King George looked me over with a small smirk.

_What’s so funny?_

“Please, come in,” he swept me inside.

 _Shouldn’t I be the one holding doors?_ I wondered faintly.

He held out his hand expectantly. I stared at it.

_What does he want me to do--oh._

I quickly kneeled and pressed my lips against his hand. I stayed kneeling until he motioned I was free to stand again.

“Your Majesty…” I began nervously, twisting my hands, “are you refusing me my job?”

A look of surprise flitted across his face, quickly replaced by the loveable smirk.

“I would never--don’t fear for your employment, …?” he reassured.

“Ollie--Oliver, I meant. Oliver Aedeline.”

He leaned in close, examining my face curiously.

“Can you write for me?” the question was so unlike his expression that I had to take a moment.

“Er--of course, your Majesty.”

“Please, call me George,” he waved a hand dismissively, turning towards his balcony. “There’s parchment and a quill-and-ink on my desk.”

_George?_

I cautiously picked up the parchment. The familiar feeling of a quill against my fingers calmed me somewhat, but I had a suspicious feeling that there were more… _surprises_ waiting.

“You say,” he began-- _almost musically, how strange._ “The price of my love’s not a price that you’re willing to pay.”

“You cry in your tea which you hurl in the sea when you see me go by… why so sad?”

I quickly scribbled down the words, embarrassed that I’d gotten too caught up in his voice to write.

“Remember we made an arrangement when you went away? Now you’re making me mad,” his voice took on a dangerous tone. “Remember, despite our estrangement…” he turned around. “I’m your man,” he winked. My face grew hot.

_This is a letter to the Colonies, not you, Ollie, regain yourself._

“You’ll be back, soon you’ll see,” George continued, brushing past me as I tried frantically to calm the blushing. I hunched over my parchment, trying to avoid eye contact.

“You’ll remember you belong to me,” he breathed in my ear, making me jump upright.

 _Perhaps he’s just… very,_ very _attached to the Colonies? Agh, I’m blushing again…_

“You’ll be back, time will tell,” I turned back around, “you’ll remember that I served you well.”

George had grabbed his scepter along the way and was now looking idly at it.

“Oceans rise, empires fall!”

_He seems a bit… enthused about empires falling…?_

“We have seen each other through it all--and when push comes to shove,” he skipped over to a chessboard, twisted around to see me and sang, “I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love!”

 _Does he do this with all of the servants?_ I wondered, becoming displeased with the thought. I found a _chaise lounge_ and sat down.

“Da-da-da, dat-da-dat-da-da-da-da-ya-da,”

_Yes, he’s definitely singing._

“Da-da-dat-dat-da-ya-da, da-da-da-dat-da-dat-da-da-da-da-ya-da,”

_Did he… rehearse this?_

_“_ Da da dat dat da,”

_Should I write this down, too?_

Unsure, I made a rough estimate of how many “da”s he had sung and went with that. George stopped his ( _dancing? pacing?_ ) at the base of the furniture, still facing away.

“You say our love is draining and you can’t go on--”

Still in the midst of a high note, he collapsed into my lap and my face went completely scarlet, adding to the tornado of butterflies in my stomach. I looked to the heavens for guidance.

_Why am I not complaining?_

“You’ll be the one complaining when I am gone,” he mumbled, mouth slightly muffled by his large cloak.

“And no--” I was startled by his sudden movement, “don’t change the subject!”

He cocked his head and grinned at me, his own face turning pink.

“‘Cause _you’re_ my favorite subject!”

_Maybe he’s speaking a bit more to me than America..._

“My sweet, submissive subject,”

 _Servants_ have _to be submissive, otherwise we would be fired…_

“My loyal, royal subject,” he leaned in, his grin becoming more gentle and genuine. I found myself closing my eyes-- _what are you doing?_ My eyes flew open to see him turning away. Comically, I felt disappointed.

“Forever… and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever,” he pledged with a hand over his heart, as though saying wedding vows.

“You’ll be back, like before,” he gazed at a picture frame.

_Oh… a partner._

“I will fight the fight and win the war,” his fists clenched around the frame, “for your love, for your praise…”

 _His crown!_ I realized, picking it up and setting it gingerly on his head.

“And I’ll love you till my dying days! When you’re gone, I’ll go mad--so don’t throw away this thing we had,” he switched his eyes to me, caressing my cheek.

 _Is that a picture of the Colonies?_ I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see, almost laughing at the absurdity of everything.

“‘Cause when push comes to shove… I will kill your friends and family to remind you of my love,”

 _How romantic,_ I thought dryly.

“Da-da-da-dat-da, dat-da-da-da-da-ya-da,” he hummed, a small smile on his face.

“Da-da-dat-dat-da-ya-da, da-da-da-dat-da-dat-da-da-da-da-ya-da, da-da-dat, everybody!” George motioned to me, his face beaming. I uncertainly sang along with him.

“Da-da-da-dat-da, dat-da-da-da-da-ya-da, da-da-dat-dat-da-ya-da,” my voice grew stronger with confidence.

“Da-da-da-dat-da, dat-da-da-da-da-ya-da-da-da-da, dat-dat-da-ya-da…”

He winked again.

_What does this mean?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so,, i'm planning on writing more fluff one-shot stuff ;)
> 
>  
> 
> also i'm sorry captain sealant, this isn't good but it gets better lmao
> 
> also:  
> *washington reading the letter* why the fuck is there "da da da" everywhere


	2. Night Scares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver races to the King's quarters after George has a nightmare.

“ _Oliver!_ ”

I raced towards the panicked shriek.

“K-King?” I called back, the yelling and pounding of my feet awakening several slumbering guards near a hallway. Normally, I would’ve at least gave them a glare for letting George become distressed like this, but George was more important.

I became aware of the fact that I was in my sleepwear the same time that I burst into the King’s room.

“ _George?_ ” I gasped, out of breath. The King turned his face towards me and my eyes widened. George’s tearstained, blotchy face crumpled. He rubbed at his face with his hands and lunged towards me. I reeled back just in time to have George envelop me in a giant hug, shuddering rapidly. I tentatively patted him on the back.

“My K—George, are you all right?”

George gave a vague shake of his head and sobbed again. Taking pity on him, I let him sink into the hug and sob a bit more.

“Shh, George, it’s okay… it’s okay… it’s okay…” I mumbled, rubbing my hand along his back.

“It—I—nightmare,” George managed to say.

I understood. Charity and I had been subject to some awful night scares as children—occasionally I’d still get them.

“You don’t—I’m being silly, aren’t I,” George hiccuped, trying to grin.

“No, no, I have nightmares too, it’s okay,” I reassured, looking into his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He nodded and took a deep breath, not releasing his light grip on my shoulders.

“I—it was a dance. You were with me, and…” he looked away, his complexion flushing a more natural pink, “it was perfect, but then, my—my Father came in, and he made me—made you go away. For the rest of my life.”

George took another shaky breath. “He exiled you, and then he brought out a woman and forced me to marry, and I never saw you again.

George marrying some woman struck something in me, and I took care to make sure he couldn’t see my wince.

“Until I got the news, three years later, that you’d died. Killed in battle,” another slight sob, “and I went to your funeral, and your family looked at me and said it was all my fault. That—” the sobbing started up again, “—that you had died, and it was all my fault, and I couldn’t do anything about it, and you probably hated me—”

“No,” I said steadily. George blinked, broken from his tangent. I raised his chin, forcing him to look at me. “George, I would _never_ leave here. Not even if your father came back from the grave,” I laughed lightly, “I wouldn’t leave.”

“You shouldn’t,” George smiled, gazing at me fondly. “I would miss you far too much.”

“I can firmly pledge,” I grinned, placing my hand over my heart, “that I, Oliver Dabney Aedeline, as long as I am strong of heart and sound of mind, will remain in the British palace as long as I can.”

“And I pledge to do the same,” a warmth filled his eyes. “You promise to never leave for battle?”

“You have nothing to fear,” I said softly, “I would never leave for battle.”

I met his eyes again—a swirling sea.

“I would never leave you.”

“Good to know,” a smile whipped across his face once more, “Oliver, would you stay with me?”

I paused from standing up. “Of course, George. And—”

“Yes?”

“Call me Ollie.”

“Of course, Ollie.”

George gave me a warm smile before slipping back into his bed. I found a stool and rested my head against the bedpost, gazing protectively at his form.

The moonlight graced the room and made me smile.

_This is where I am meant to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't mind me just crying over my own fic
> 
> anyway this was pretty short but i just needed to get this out
> 
> have a good day <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short high school AU! I combined this with my other story, "The Price of This Love."

Charlotte and George headed up the hallway, chattering excitedly. April showers kept the students of Rochester High School effectively inside during lunch periods, and not even the adventurous sophomore, Hercules Mulligan, dared to endure the storms raging outside.

“And my hydrangeas are doing really well, but all they’ve taught us in Intro to Horticulture is stupid cell walls,” grumbled George's best friend.

“You deserve better, Char,” he said affectionately, shuddering as a gust of freezing wind swept in through a draft. She grinned at him.

“Hell yeah I do, Georgie.”

“Don’t call me Georgie,” George groaned. “It was one sleepover, we were tired and I was referring to myself in the third person _―_ ”

“Don’t look now, but Ollie’s right around the corner,” Char remarked casually. He immediately spun around on his heel and tried to come back the way they’d came.

I say tried, because Char was ready for this and she pulled him back by the hood of his sweater.

“George William Frederick Hanover the Third, you will get over your irrational fear of talking to your crush and go _talk to him,_ ” she growled in his ear.

“I’m not gonna,” George pouted.

“Yes, you are,”

“No, I’m _not,_ ”

Char looked down for a second, and that was his chance: he slipped out of the ermine-lined sweater and took off like a shot back around the school.

“ _George!_ ” the shriek followed him and he ran even faster.

Unfortunately, George was not very athletically inclined, so he began panting as he saw Char round the corner.

 _Damn the football team,_ he thought.

Char chased him down the hall and George turned right in a panic.

This panic grew as he saw that Ollie and his friend _―_ Quincy?―were sitting in the hall he'd chose to run down, and were looking at him with startled expressions.

George put on another burst of speed, his face reddening, and was suddenly tackled by an out-of-breath, triumphant, Charlotte, which knocked him to the floor and the wind out of his lungs. He gasped, trying to regain his breath for a few seconds, before Char looked over at Quincy and Oliver and awkwardly waved.

“Heeeeeeeey, guys,” she said, stretching out the sound.

George fainted.

 

-

 

“George? George, are you okay?”

He blinked his eyes open and immediately wished he hadn’t.

 _Oliver Aedeline_ was standing over him, concerned. He sat up and was temporarily rendered unable to say anything by his internal dialogue of screaming.

George cleared his throat and said the first thing that came to mind.

“I can’t believe it’s not butter!”

_SHIT―_

Ollie furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“Um… I mean… I can’t believe… I… didn’t get _battered_ up,” he laughed weakly. George looked around and his eyes immediately locked with Char, who was smiling smugly from across the nurses’ office.

“Uh, okay… well, Quincy and I have to go, but I hope you feel better!” Ollie beamed at him and left, Quincy peering over his shoulder and snickering before leaving as well. His mind spinning, George rushed over to Char.

“ _What happened?_ ” he demanded. Char rolled her eyes.

“You talk to me in that tone, you _definitely_ aren’t hearing what happened,” she smirked.

“ _Um, ma’am_ ―”

“Actually, ‘they’ for today―”

“ _Um, Mx,_ you have _no right_ as a _human being_ not to tell me what happened if I fainted in front of Ollie,” he hissed.

“Chill, Georgie,” they said, examining their nail beds while ignoring his huff of protest, “nothin’ happened. Quincy and I made awkward small talk while Ollie went to get the nurse. Quince has a dog, it’s pretty cute.”

George sighed in relief. “Good. But you’re still not off the hook.”

Char scoffed. “Pff, for what? Finally getting you to talk to the guy?”

“Well, I mean―”

“‘Cause I’ll wrestle you back out into that hallway if I have to,” Char threatened before grabbing him in a playful headlock. The nurse, unfortunately, chose that time to walk back in.

“Miss Mecklenburg, I will give you another detention if you keep continuing this behavior,” the nurse narrowed her eyes. George turned to Char.

“Wait, what? 'Another' detention?”

They shrugged. “Yeah, I got one for tackling you in the hallway. It’s okay, though,” they added hastily, “I’ll have more time to get homework done.”

“All right,” George sighed, “can you still come over today?”

“Yeah, my dad’ll understand,” Char waved their hand and turned to Nurse Morrigan. “Uh, can we get a pass for sixth period, please?”

“Sure,” she said absentmindedly, rummaging through a drawer, “name and class?”

“Uh, Char Mecklenberg and George Hanover for U.S. History, please.”

 

-

 

“I still can’t believe we didn’t take U.S. History as sophomores. Now we have to share the class with _freshmen,_ ” George grumbled.

“We were in Modern History that year, we had to learn about five other revolutions,” Char pointed out before knocking on Mr. Schuyler’s door. One of the students―Paul Revere―opened the door for the two, effectively alerting the entire class to our tardiness. Mr. Schuyler barely looked up from his laptop when Char handed him the hall pass; they could’ve probably handed him a Snickers wrapper and he’d accept it.

“Charlotte, Minuette, we’re working on a democracy versus republic debate of the United States government. Look on the board for your assignment.”

George smiled tightly. “Thanks, Mr. Schuyler.”

Char gave him a knowing look, one that meant he’d definitely have to talk about it at the sleepover with her later tonight.

 _Thank God it's a Friday,_ he thought.

Unfortunately, the board listed he’d be working with John Adams, a short sophomore who didn’t seem fit to even take a U.S. History class without getting personally offended by it, let alone go into a politician career. Adams had also taken great care to find times where he would unnecessarily bring up George's birth name, leading to a bloody nose and a long lecture from his father on how “chaos and bloodshed is not a solution―don’t let that Charlotte lead you astray.”

“Hello, _Minuette,_ ” George cringed as John Adams sat down next to him, drawing glances from fellow students, a smug smile on his pudgy face. “We’ll be working together, hmm?”

“I suppose so, Adams.” he said icily.

“Well, I’m just _delighted_ that I get to be partnered with such a lovely _lady_ like you!”

George ignored the rest of the remarks, but, unfortunately, didn't get any work done. Thankfully, the rest of the period passed with incident.

 _Now PE,_ his mind reminded him.

He twisted the pass in his hands anxiously. Somehow, he’d wheedled his father into _persuading_ the PE Director that he didn’t need it, and he was excused from the class Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Sometimes George felt guilty for letting himself be pulled into the temptation of bribing school officers, but that guilt was quickly overshadowed by the satisfaction of relaxing on the bleachers.

As his fellow classmates’ feet squeaked on the basketball floor, George pulled out his phone and inconspicuously hid it at his side, pausing every few minutes to scroll through Instagram. Most of it was the same old―he followed most of his classmates and enjoyed being up-to-date on their lives―but an announcement a few posts back caught his eye. George scrolled back and scanned the post.

_Now Calling for Theatre Tech Crew Members for Our Spring Talent Show: Sign Up Today at the Little Theatre!_

George lazily flipped through the comments, recognizing a username here and there, and then― _olliespam_28: cool!_

 _Olliespam_28_ was a private profile, but judging from the profile picture, it was definitely his Ollie. He hissed a triumphant “yes!” and ran through all the songs he knew by heart―there was no way in hell he wasn’t doing that show.

 

_thepriceofmylove: ollie is doing the talent show!!!!!!!!!!_

_classic-char: Bro, nice_

_thepriceofmylove: i mean technically he’s going into tech crew_

_thepriceofmylove: i think_

_classic-char: What did he say?_

_thepriceofmylove: um he said cool_

_classic-char: Uh, is that it_

_thepriceofmylove: yes_

_classic-char: I don’t want to freaj you out, man, but there’s like a billion things he could have mwant_

_classic-char: *freak_

_classic-char: *meant_

_thepriceofmylove: and youre in honors english_

_classic-char: *you’re_

_classic-char: Don’t attack me_

_thepriceofmylove: <3_

_classic-char: </3_

_thepriceofmylove: that was Rude_

_classic-char: Read: 1:56 PM_


End file.
